Yet Jove had fear'd the giant rush,Their upraised arms, their port of pride,And the twin brethren bent to pushHuge Pelion up Olympus' side.But Typhon, Mimas, what could these,Or what Porphyrion's stalwart scorn,Rhoetus, or he whose spears were trees,Enceladus, from earth uptorn,As on they rush'd in mad career'Gainst Pallas' shield? Here met the foeFierce Vulcan, queenly Juno here,And he who ne'er shall quit his bow,Who laves in clear Castalian floodHis locks, and loves the leafy growthOf Lycia next his native wood,The Delian and the Pataran both.Strength, mindless, falls by its own weight;Strength, mix'd with mind, is made more strongBy the just gods, who surely hateThe strength whose thoughts are set on wrong.